The End
by KittyMagician
Summary: A series of oneshots all in an alternate reality. The substitute for an actual book I planned.
1. The End

Ivan always knew the world would end with them.

Well, not always, but he saw something familiar in the younger nation's eyes. An endless blue, like a wide-open sky: a promise of a new hope for a new age.

Everyone seemed to think that the world would end in ice and fire. It was an ongoing argument, which one it would be. Personally, Ivan believed it could be both.

At the time, he thought he knew. It seemed simple. He was ice, and Alfred was fire.

It seemed obvious. The sun-haired boy was filled with a passion to become great, and his fate always seemed to be intertwined with flame.

Of course, those were often attacks made upon him, not by him.

Only many years later did Ivan reconsider that theory. Something had changed in Alfred's eyes. When their gazes met, there were no sparks, no fizzling flames. There was just cold determination and icy threat.

Even after the fittingly named Cold War ended, Ivan could tell something had changed in the land of the free.

Or had it?

For how long had they been blind to the boy's true nature?

For how long would they continue to push him towards the edge?

Even though it hurt when Ivan was insulted, he could see that it hurt Alfred more. He obviously needed his fellow countries to support him, to tell him that he wasn't useless or evil.

Too bad no one seemed to realize that.

No, Alfred was ice. The problem was, so was Ivan.

Still, there were others. How fitting that the eldest country (or so they thought) could take the role of flame. Ivan could see the passion in his ally's eyes, even though it was dulled by centuries upon centuries of hardships and sorrow. Alfred's elder brother was volatile and often acted on whims. In fact, if Ivan were to sort all the countries, the vast majority would make up fire.

Ivan still believed the world could fall to both fire and ice. They were sitting on a time bomb.

The only question was, who would light the fuse?

Or rather, who had lit it first?

Ivan could think of many possibilities. Perhaps it was Antonio, when he reached the New World. It could have been Arthur, when he began his empire. Maybe it was Ludwig, when he began the Second World War, or Roderich and Elizabeta when they began the first. It could have been the Roman Empire, all those years ago, when he rose or even when he fell.

Maybe it could be Ivan's fault.

Or maybe it was Alfred's.

Ivan kept his thoughts to himself. He would watch the world fall, and then maybe, he could be free.

Free of responsibility, of war and sorrow. Of any feeling at all.

It was possible for a nation to die.

Ivan had theories on that, but chose not to voice them. The other nations seemed to think they'd live forever.

He could think of a few who probably suspected it. Yao had seen empires fall; he probably waited for his turn to fade. Feliciano and Lovino had seen their grandfather die.

Ivan wished he could see into Alfred's mind. Did he know? It seemed impossible that he wouldn't, but not even Ivan had seen what he truly thought. As far as he knew, no one had.

What lay behind his facade of bravado?

Ivan thought he saw it once. Alfred had let the mask down around him many times during their long standstill. He had been threatening, a deadly mix of cold determination and sheer will. Indeed, it took a lot to become a true country, and Alfred was no exception.

The whole thing almost amused Ivan. It was an experiment, he supposed, to see how long it would take for everything to crash and burn.

Or freeze, rather.

Ether would work.

* * *

 **So... I might have started another story? I'm still working on it, so keep an eye out! Please leave a review, or go check out some of my other stories! I have a bunch of Hetalia stuff.**


	2. Power Went Wrong

The other countries probably looked at them funny, but did it really matter?

The sun-haired boy threw his head back, laughing at something the black-haired one said. They sat at a table apart from the others, sheets of paper scattered over the table.

Russia sighed, picking a stray document off the floor. "America, please refrain from doing that, da?"

"Did you hear what he said?" America demanded. "It's so true!"

"America-kun," Japan said. "The others are staring."

"So?" America glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, Yao! Over here!"

The elder nation fixed him with a glare as he took his seat next to Russia. "I told you not to call me that, aru."

"But Yao's name is so pretty!" Russia protested.

China sighed. "I said him, not you."

A grin spread across Russia's face. "Spasibo, Yao!"

"Hey!" America exclaimed. "Why does he get to call you that?"

"Because we are friends," China said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you are much younger than both of us, aru."

"I am glad we are almost done with the meetings," Japan said. "America-kun, I think your presentation is next?"

America grimaced, but quickly covered it up. "Yeah. Don't worry, it'll be awesome. I'm the hero, after all."

"And what does that make us?" Russia asked.

America shrugged. "Whatever you want to be, I guess."

China scoffed, drawing attention from other nations seated nearby. "Oh? Can I choose to not know you?"

"Hey, don't be mean!" America glanced down at his untouched plate of hamburgers. "I'm not that bad!"

"You are very…" Japan paused. "...excitable, sometimes."

"So?" America poked a man next to him. "Hey, Matt. Do you think I'm okay?"

Canada jumped. "W-what?"

"Thank you for joining the conversation, Canada-san," Japan said.

America stared at him. "Was that sarcasm?"

"..."

"Oh my goodness! Guys! Kiku was sarcastic! Did any of you guys get that?"

"Why would we be recording this pointless conversation?" China asked.

"I was recording it," Russia said. "I will give you clip of Japan's sarcasm, da?"

"What's going on?" Canada asked.

America turned back to him. "Were you asleep or something?"

Canada glanced away. "Maybe."

China rolled his eyes. "Aiya," he muttered.

"Everyone!" a voice roared. The five nations turned, and saw Germany standing by the doors. "The meeting will come back together in five minutes!"

China stood. "Finally, aru. Talking to you westerners makes my head hurt."

"That's not nice either!" America protested, following his lead. "Just because you're like, thirteen times older than me doesn't make you any better!"

"Calm down," Japan said. "We need to return to the meeting soon."

The others nodded. With a few last farewells, they went their separate ways.

Of course, the image of them laughing together didn't do much to reassure the other nations.

After all, things had seemed perfectly chummy before that one almost-war…

-:-

 _A man stood on the crest of a hill, staring up at the foggy dark sky above._

 _"Arthur?" a voice called. Another man appeared behind him. "It's getting late."_

 _"Where did we go wrong?" Arthur asked, voice barely more than a whisper. "How did everything end like this?"_

 _The other man sighed and walked to stand next to him. "I've told you many times. There is nothing we could have done. We can only move forward, now."_

 _Arthur looked down. "Yes. With any luck, they'll come back."_

 _"Of course they will," the other man said. A smile spread across his face. "Come on, mon cher. You'll get cold if you stay out too long."_

* * *

 **So, I decided to turn this into a series of sorts. I'll probably never make the full book, but hey! Maybe you can piece together what's happening through these oneshots!**

 **If you feel up to it, please leave a review!**

 **There was actually a review on the last oneshot.**

 **sasunaru13: Thank you! I love adding little nuances onto these precious little characters. I'm glad someone likes them!**


	3. Under the Banner of the Wide-Open Sky

He had dreams, sometimes.

There were others in them. He could never remember names or faces, but he knew feelings.

There was the broken man he felt sorry for, the masked one he pitied. There was a happy one he distrusted and an angry one he felt safe with. There were the older ones who felt like good friends, although every time he saw them, he felt a twinge of regret.

There was the wintry one he feared and tried to avoid.

Sometimes he woke smiling. He walked through pink-leaves trees with a smiling friend, or walked through a field of snow with a heart so similar to his own.

Sometimes he woke screaming.

Sometimes he was aflame, burning away, or drowning eternally in pitch-black waves. Once, he hung from a tree, hands clawing at the ropes digging into his flesh.

He quieted quickly every time. When his brother was home, he usually crawled into his bed.

"Alfred?" his brother asked. "What's wrong?"

"I was worried you'd had a nightmare," he lied. "So I came to protect you!"

His brother smiled and shook his head. "Alright, then. Good night."

"Night," he echoed, burrowing into the red covers.

Safety. Security.

-:-

Regret.

It was funny, how time changed your perception of people.

In time, he forgot his dreams. As he grew, they were replaced by real memories, of pain and hardship, or of happiness.

But as he grew, he saw suffering.

He felt suffering.

It hurt, and he had been given first hand experience.

He didn't want other people to suffer.

He walked out of a brick building, blinking in the sun above. A tall man waited outside.

"Your president has issued an interesting proclamation, da?" the foreigner asked.

He plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Isn't it awesome? All of these people're gonna be free!"

The foreigner smiled. "I see. Come on, I would like to see the gardens again."

As they walked, they walked under the clear blue sky.

-:-

If only they could stay blue forever.

He walked under a gray sky now. They had tried to stop him, but he wanted to see what he had done in person. What he could have stopped.

He had ditched the guides at the airport after asking to go to the bathroom. His Japanese was still broken, but he hadn't spoken any in at least four years. At least they could understand what he was trying to say.

The buildings around him were broken and crumbling. He should have felt victorious. He had proved that he was a powerhouse. A force to be reckoned with.

He couldn't feel proud of himself.

He was sure _he_ wasn't, either.

He started to climb up a pile of rubble. His hands were protected by a pair of gloves, but he could still feel the texture of stone and metal against his skin.

"America-san?"

The faint voice made him flinch. He lost his footing and slid down the pile amid many curses, and numerous cuts.

His former enemy stood at the base of the building. Strips of white covered his face and arms, and he guessed there were more bandages under his clothes.

"I thought there were guides sent to watch you," the defeated nation said.

He got to his feet, wincing, and didn't respond. Instead, he continued walking, farther into the rubble.

"America-san!" the other nation walked after him. "What is wrong? If you are upset about something, please tell someone! It might be dangerous here!"

"And whose fault is that?" he muttered.

The other nation grabbed his sleeve. He instantly stopped.

"America-san," the other nation said. "Please. It isn't your fault."

For a moment, he almost believed that.

Of course, years later, he wished he hadn't let himself win that war. Maybe then the greater catastrophe would have been avoided.

-:-

 _He had dreams, sometimes._

 _He laid awake, staring at the ceiling. His twin was fast asleep next to him, soft snores filling the room._

 _He put a hand on his heart and closed his eyes, whispering a familiar line he'd never heard under his breath._

 _"Oh, say can you see..?"_

 _As he sang, he could almost remember a banner made of a beautiful night sky._

* * *

 **I'm too obsessed with this universe. Anyway, if you can't tell, "he" is America, while " _he_ " is someone else.**


	4. What They Left Behind (2048)

Arthur liked to think they could have a happy ending.

It was a wistful thought, he knew, but he couldn't help it. There were so many things he hadn't said, so many relationships he hadn't bothered repairing. How cruel it was, for fate to tear them away before he could.

It had been almost seven years since the Cry of the Earth, as some liked to call it. It was a miracle his country hadn't been destroyed. After all, many nations were felled during that time. Greece, Italy, and Japan, to name a few. Even Germany, a land-locked nation, suffered enough economic trouble to crumble and perish.

Irunya had called earlier that day. She and her sister were combining their governments for a while, she had said. They had also convinced the Russian government to use some of their land to reestablish some of the old countries. Francis had been delighted when he heard the news. Arthur had been pleasantly surprised, but he still couldn't think about Russia without eventually thinking about the war.

He hated that. Back then, you didn't know who your friend was, or who your enemy was. One day you would be fighting with someone, the next they were dropping bombs on you. Even though they somehow managed to avoid using nuclear weapons until the very end, the destruction was worldwide and much worse than the aftereffects of either of the first two world wars.

Some called it the war to end all wars, and Arthur couldn't help but agree. If only he could just forget about it.

It wasn't just the war that haunted him, of course. What came next was almost worse. At the time, everyone thought that the Treaty of Coexistence would end the suffering, Arthur included. If only the disease hadn't chosen that time to rear its ugly head. Although there was a cure, it was incredibly expensive to make, weakening the economies of every nation that produced it.

Arthur remembered watching helplessly as the disease swept through China, still overpopulated enough to assist in the spread of the illness. It was when he learned of the personification's fate that he realized how far from peace they were.

It was about that time that _they_ fell ill, and Arthur jerked his thoughts away. He wasn't quite ready to start thinking about them yet.

As he finished his tea, Francis came down the stairs. "Irunya requested we hold a meeting sometime soon," he announced, his annoyingly French accent as prominent as ever. "She says she will ask Tino if we can hold it in Finland."

Arthur nodded and placed the cup on the table. "That sounds lovely," he murmured.

Francis frowned and walked over, taking a seat across from him. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice full of concern. "If you are feeling ill, I should call a doctor."

"I'm fine," Arthur insisted. He looked down at the table. "I was thinking."

Arthur knew Francis understood. After all, how could they prevent themselves from dwelling on the lost members of their makeshift family? He was thankful Francis was there; their entire lives, they'd been together, whether they were fighting or supporting each other. Arthur loathed to admit it, but Francis probably knew him better than anyone else ever had.

"We should go traveling," Francis decided. "We can visit the others and still be back for the meeting."

A brief respite would be good, Arthur decided. "Alright," he said. "When should we leave?"

"How about now?" Francis asked. "There is no point to waiting."

Arthur stood. "I'd better go pack, then."

* * *

 **I have another oneshot! I am not dead! I am off to write the next KTD chapter! See ya!**


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